


Dear Cas

by Hatswithpompoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: In that Dean Winchester actually talks eloquently about feelings, Introspection, Letter, Love Confessions, No Plot/Plotless, Out of Character, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatswithpompoms/pseuds/Hatswithpompoms
Summary: On some unspecified night Dean writes a letter to Cas. One to be opened him when he dies. In it are his thoughts on Castiel, and on love.That's literally it. There is no plot, no story, just Dean's introspection on his feelings for Castiel, and some other characters.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 5





	Dear Cas

Dear Cas,

I am writing this for the day that I die. Whether it’s tomorrow or decades in the future, this letter is for you. I hope you read this one day, for the sole selfish reason that if I die before you do, I won’t have to live without you. Three sentences in and I already sound like a chick, which I’ve accepted I will. It’s 3 in the morning, I couldn’t care less at this point. I wrote one of these for Sam, before I went to Hell, and another when I came back. Now I’m writing one for you.

I guess there’s a lot that I want to tell you. But all that it really boils down to is one simple fact. The fact that I’ve known for a long time now that I love you. At least, that seems to be the best word for it. Whenever I think about you, love doesn’t seem to fit. The word love seems far too small and overused for it. What it is is so much bigger, I’m not quite sure what to call it.

I was in love with Lisa. I loved her strength. I loved her compassion, her understanding. I will never be ungrateful for everything she has done for me. But it wasn’t just her I loved. I loved Ben. And I loved the apple pie life I could have had. It wasn’t easy, to adjust to living with her, but at the same time it was so easy to live that life. Everything fit perfectly. Like pieces of a puzzle. It was nothing like you. And all the time I was there, I never stopped thinking of you, sitting in Reggie Turner’s heaven, doing whatever it is you do up there. You are so much more than the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle slotting together. So much more.

I love Sammy, I think you know that. Like you, I don’t think love exactly qualifies what I feel, but at the same time its nothing like you. I love Sam like my brother, my best friend, and in some ways, I guess, my son. What I feel for him stretches beyond love. It goes into protectiveness, care, and a need to keep him safe. It’s the knowledge that he could go on a killing spree and I’d forgive him, I’d protect him. I’d do the same for you but it’s different. I understand what I feel for Sammy. With enough words I’m sure I could describe it. I don’t understand what I feel for you. How to define it.

It is like a hurricane of happiness. Every conversation is like a steam careering from place to place in a rollercoaster of words that leaves me breathless and high. Thinking about you makes me smile, and even a single text from you makes everything better. I love your terrible use of emoticons, that dumb face you make when your confused, and your complete disregard for personal space. The last one isn’t because of any ulterior motive I swear. It just makes me smile, to think of your lack of knowledge of social norms. 

I love you.

But I’m not gay, or bisexual. I have always been and will always be straight. You are the exception to the rule, and I’ve never been quite sure why. Sex has never been a part of it. The fact that you are male (or look male I know you don’t technically have a gender) doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered, because I love you.

But I will never tell you. That’s why I am writing this letter. Our friendship is one of the best things I have ever had in my life, and there has been too much shit disrupting it for me to even risk ruining it by telling you this. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I’d tell you and you’d feel the same. That would be could, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it. But I can never convince myself that this would be the reality. No matter what happens I am terrified that this is one sided. Terrified that you will say you won’t understand the enormity of what I feel.

I can’t risk that.

To tell you might tether you to me, but it could also repel you entirely. Even if you felt nothing had changed, I would know that it had, and I wouldn’t handle it. Our friendship is too precious and fragile to endanger in any way. Not telling you is selfish. Completely and utterly. Because if you feel the same then you will not know until it is too late. Please when you read this, don’t think too little of me.

I love you.

Dean.


End file.
